N/I

Я–Сердце Тьмы
Я не знаю страха
Но внушаю его в души своих врагов
Я–разрушитель миров
Я знаю могущество Темной Стороны
Я–огонь ненависти
Вся вселенная склоняется передо мной
Я вверяю себя тьме
Ибо я нашел истинную жизнь
В гибели Света

"Невинный блаженец" © D.G.

Ilaan vanished – and took all the sounds and sources of light along. Only Ilaan remained. Down on his knees, an obedient servant of the Force, just like all those months ago. It spoke to him – and he listened, without saying a word. Out of his silence, the sounds and images appeared, filling the space around them, giving the reality its meaning and weight, just like clean white cloth that gradually becomes heavy with blood when it covers the body.

If he was stronger he'd still be alive. He wasn't, so he isn't. That's that. © Clementine, The Walking Dead

"Невинный блаженец" © D.G.

Ilaan vanished – and took all the sounds and sources of light along. Only Ilaan remained. Down on his knees, an obedient servant of the Force, just like all those months ago. It spoke to him – and he listened, without saying a word. Out of his silence, the sounds and images appeared, filling the space around them, giving the reality its meaning and weight, just like clean white cloth that gradually becomes heavy with blood when it covers the body.

" - Те люди, внизу, они живут по правилам, а толку? Их всё равно поглотил страх.
- А перестанут бояться и что?
- Тогда всё просто. Выбираешь путь и идёшь без оглядки." (с) FaF III

Nazareth – Games
Комаров Кирилл – У входа в рай
Peter Gabriel – Games Without Frontiers
Воскресенье – Кто виноват
Антонио Вивальди – Танец смерти (Escala Palladio)
Андрей Миронов – Где ты была?
Hammerfall – Last Man Standing
Кукрыниксы – Холодно
Disturbed – Indestructible

The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

"Невинный блаженец" © D.G.

Ilaan vanished – and took all the sounds and sources of light along. Only Ilaan remained. Down on his knees, an obedient servant of the Force, just like all those months ago. It spoke to him – and he listened, without saying a word. Out of his silence, the sounds and images appeared, filling the space around them, giving the reality its meaning and weight, just like clean white cloth that gradually becomes heavy with blood when it covers the body.

The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

N/I

"Невинный блаженец" © D.G.

Ilaan vanished – and took all the sounds and sources of light along. Only Ilaan remained. Down on his knees, an obedient servant of the Force, just like all those months ago. It spoke to him – and he listened, without saying a word. Out of his silence, the sounds and images appeared, filling the space around them, giving the reality its meaning and weight, just like clean white cloth that gradually becomes heavy with blood when it covers the body.

Wasn't it Oppenheimer who said any man whose mistakes take 10 years to correct is quite the man?

Может быть только один канон

Some People Fuck At Funerals. I Cut Off Heads ©

The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

Я–Сердце Тьмы
Я не знаю страха
Но внушаю его в души своих врагов
Я–разрушитель миров
Я знаю могущество Темной Стороны
Я–огонь ненависти
Вся вселенная склоняется передо мной
Я вверяю себя тьме
Ибо я нашел истинную жизнь
В гибели Света

"Невинный блаженец" © D.G.

Ilaan vanished – and took all the sounds and sources of light along. Only Ilaan remained. Down on his knees, an obedient servant of the Force, just like all those months ago. It spoke to him – and he listened, without saying a word. Out of his silence, the sounds and images appeared, filling the space around them, giving the reality its meaning and weight, just like clean white cloth that gradually becomes heavy with blood when it covers the body.

The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

Я–Сердце Тьмы
Я не знаю страха
Но внушаю его в души своих врагов
Я–разрушитель миров
Я знаю могущество Темной Стороны
Я–огонь ненависти
Вся вселенная склоняется передо мной
Я вверяю себя тьме
Ибо я нашел истинную жизнь
В гибели Света

Wasn't it Oppenheimer who said any man whose mistakes take 10 years to correct is quite the man?